


夜の光 (Yoru no Hikari)

by Himmelreich



Category: Aldnoah.Zero (Anime)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-24
Updated: 2015-12-24
Packaged: 2018-05-07 15:50:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5462273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Himmelreich/pseuds/Himmelreich
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three times Empress Asseylum Vers Allusia had tea with the men who loved her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bai Mu Dan

**Author's Note:**

  * For [effectaffect](https://archiveofourown.org/users/effectaffect/gifts).



> Dear effectaffect,
> 
> happy holiday season to you! I hope that this fic can contribute to rather than spoil your festive mood. As soon as I had read your letter, I had the great urge to leave a comment (but sadly couldn’t without giving away my account). I greatly enjoyed reading the essay - because that was what it was - you wrote on Aldnoah’s main trio. You have managed to capture the interesting layered and twisted beauty of their relationships that I enjoyed so much in the show in clear words better than I could ever hope to. Especially with how much hate Asseylum and Klancain got in the fandom, I was so glad to find someone who also has love for these characters and their journeys. (Also, I laughed a lot at “because boy howdy did he make some terrible life choices”, because that is the most fitting description of Slaine’s path in the second cours I have ever come across.) To be honest, I am of the stead-fast conviction that _you_ should write 100k of fic about all the things you mentioned, because I would read it in a heartbeat. 
> 
> Sincerely,  
> Your Yuletide writer
> 
> Also, my deepest gratitude goes out to my betta [meguri_aite](http://archiveofourown.org/users/meguri_aite/pseuds/meguri_aite) who valiantly fought her way through this in its raw state, cleaned up my amateur IR lingo, _and_ saved you from an onslaught of _all_ of the past perfect. Much obliged, you're the best ~~рыбка~~.

“- and with both parties agreeing on the change to sub-clause 323b, that settles the final revisions on the nonaggression pact, then. Shall we continue with the specifics of the energy export contract? We can of course adjourn this discussion should the Versian delegation require a break.”  
  
The man does not say it out loud, but Asseylum knows the remark is directed at her in particular. She straightens her back a little more in response and lets the indignation roll off her like mercury.  
  
“No, please continue.”  
  
His face for the blink of an eye shows the slightest hint of disappointment at her not taking offence, but he continues talking. Asseylum takes a breath and wonders if outside, the sun has already begun set; the windowless conference hall makes it impossible to tell, hours stretching into what feels like days.  
  
It is only one of many, many meetings filled with formal hearings and the forging of contracts that will pour into words and paragraphs an idea of peace and co-existence she paid in her own blood to achieve. The specifics of trade regulation the man reads out now are a foreign language to her ears, but she still pays attention to every syllable, every reaction of the other members of the audience. In the end, as the formal head of state, it will be her signature that will either turn all of this into a new world order or declare it nought.  
  
Out of the corner of her eyes she senses movement, and she inclines her head slightly as Klancain leans towards her. His voice is low, just loud enough to hear over the on-going speech and the sounds of attendees turning pages and scribbling notes.  
  
“Sir Valasseon advises you push for an addition of a sub-clause here that covers the event of possible shortages in supply due to unforeseen complications on Vers of any sort, since so far only natural disasters are included.”  
  
Asseylum does not take her eyes off the main podium.  
  
“I trust his decision, then, please have him compile the list of revisions.”  
  
Klancain does not withdraw immediately, and when Asseylum turns around to ask if anything else is the matter, there is a look of genuine concern on his face that switches to composed neutrality almost instantly now that he has been caught.  
  
“It is alright,” she says with a smile, and he only bows his head in reply.  
  
It is alright, she tells herself. Now is not the time to rest idly when her visit is drawing to an end and the need to return to Vers is pressing. And it is not her alone who can see through the carefully laid out traps in these papers meant to cripple the changing Empire in its power. She knows that the UFE representatives doubt her competence because of her age, her origins, her choice of dress, her entourage composed of those Knights that fought alongside Saazbaum not too long ago and often are barely any older than herself.  
  
While her presence is necessary, these are matters in which she needs to rely on the advice of others entirely, each step towards an uneasy understanding with the mortal enemy of over thirty years taken with caution and bureaucratic safety nets.  
  
It is ironic how the emergence of the Vers Empire was the one event to reconcile the nations of Earth torn apart after decades of war, and now here she is at the centre of their alliance - the granddaughter of the man who declared the dawn of a new race, the daughter of the man who laid waste to this planet, the sister of the woman who was complicit in a new attempt of conquest, and she herself the unwitting pawn sacrifice used to launch the second war.  
  
The years of hatred are a legacy she has decided to revise the moment she boarded the shuttle taking her to Count Cruhteo’s Landing Castle, and one she has not wavered in her resolve even for a second ever since.  
  
  
They unanimously decide to end the conference shortly after, adjourning the discussion of eventual changes to the contract until the next day. Sir Valasseon promises her he will have drafted the revisions by early morning.

 

  
As Asseylum lets herself be escorted through the maze like hallways, she tries to discretely roll her shoulders, her neck aching after a day of maintaining impeccable posture. All the advanced medical technology of Vers have not prevented her body from suffering after almost two years of sleep, and the scarred skin on her chest and back is giving off a dull sensation of pain. Keeping physical composure for hours on end has never been something she struggled with before the war, but she knows that is only a minor inconvenience considering the miracle of her surviving the fatal shots.  
  
Turning the final corner towards the main entrance hall, Asseylum stops abruptly, causing one of the men behind her to tread on the hem of her dress. The verbose apology that follows goes by unnoticed as she remains rooted to her spot, but it does succeed in catching the attention of the two men standing by the door. They interrupt their conversation and turn to face the arriving party.  
  
Feeling that there is a sense of uncertainty rising among her companions, Asseylum moves forward with clear intent. She halts again at an appropriate distance.  
  
“Good day, Inaho-” Her eyes fall on the gold thread on his uniform jacket briefly, and mindful of the environment and the others present she corrects: “Kaizuka-shōi.”  
  
“Good day, Your Majesty.”  
  
He bows rather than salutes, a tiny diversion from protocol that seems very much like him. His voice is as soft and gentle as she remembers, and his words entirely his own this time. The knowledge that their last conversation was lead by an entity that was only a mechanical shadow of his true self and yetrevealed his innermost heart to her gives a painful sting to a second-hand goodbye.  
  
It has been months since she left him behind at his own request and in some rare, anxious moments when she felt the weight of the two worlds on every fibre of her being, she feared he hated her for not searching for him.  
  
He looks different now, she notes as he lifts his head again, and it is not only the fact that he has traded his school uniform for the blues of the military or the black eye-patch, which both conceals and reveals that he has not escaped this war unscathed. It is something else, something that runs deeper, and Asseylum wonders if she, too, looks changed to Inaho as he regards her with his usual calm attentiveness.  
  
“I’ll be seeing you tomorrow, Kaizuka,” the other officer, who Asseylum vaguely remembers having seen around the Vice Admiral before, quietly tells Inaho before giving her a short nod in passing. “Your Highness.”  
  
“I was requested to attend several meetings on the topic of how Earth is going to employ Aldnoah technology,” Inaho begins explaining unprompted as the man leaves, and Asseylum catches how his remaining eye flickers towards the rest of her entourage before he continues. “After all, I’m the only Terran who can use it.”  
  
Nothing changes in his expression and tone at that, but Asseylum knows they are both thinking of the same secret addition to the initial peace treaty signed on the very day twin shooting stars crashing on Earth signalled the end of the Second Interplanetary War. A person’s life, saved only by a few letters, and just as easily ended.  
  
The question leaves her mouth before she thinks on it.  
  
“Would you care to join me for tea?”  
  
Inaho just blinks in silent surprise the same way he had when they first met. Asseylum is aware it is evening already, way past teatime, anyway, and the sky outside is coloured a rich violet that slowly bleeds into a sliver orange and gold of the sunset low on the horizon. And she is aware of her advisors and her fiancée who are patiently waiting for her to finish this conversation.  
  
It is a thoroughly unreasonable request, and as all those before, Inaho grants it.  
  
  
Their current abode is far from the opulent splendour of Versian castles, but the building is meant to ensure her safety first and foremost, and she knows they will not stay long anyway. The salon is nice enough to receive visitors at least, even though Inaho probably does not care about such things in the first place.  
  
“I’m glad to see you are well,” Asseylum says after dismissing the servants and once they are alone. Klancain excused himself after a his brief but friendly in tone introduction to Inaho in order to talk with some advisors over the proposition for one of the most important remaining issues to settle with the UFE, the potential rebuilding of a Hyper Gate, and she is grateful for his prudence.  
  
“I learned that all of the Deucalion crew survived, I hope they and your sister are in good health?”  
  
“They are, thank you.”  
  
There is a long pause as they both sip on their tea, then gently put their cups down again. The soft clink of her ring against the porcelain sounds unnaturally loud to her ears.  
  
“The negotiations are going well, I’m confident that by the end of the month we’ll have the rudimentary contract between the planets signed and ratified. It’s only the first step in a long process, but I believe that we can establish the groundwork for a long-lasting peace this way.”  
  
It is odd that even with her life-long training in conversation and diplomacy, Asseylum now finds herself struggling with retying a thread that unravelled without her being able to stop it. She has learned how to talk about feudal politics, about Olympian sandstorms and the inner workings of the Versian military at length with even the most unpleasant person, but with the boy who had been willing to betray his own superiors only to save her life, she lacks the words.  
  
Staring down into her cup, she can see her pale reflection on the surface of the golden liquid. Maybe it had not only been her own busy schedule that had kept her from meeting Inaho; maybe he has avoided her on purpose as well. He had been upfront about only protecting her to secure peace and thereby save those important to him from the very beginning, and as thanks for his help she had left him behind unconscious and with a final burden that everyone else would have never taken upon themselves.  
  
He has no reason to humour her anymore, to agree to whatever she demands of him, and suddenly Asseylum regrets asking of him to follow her once more.  
  
“Are you happy living like this?”  
  
Inaho’s voice stirs her from her thoughts abruptly. He remains near impossible to read even now, the answer to her questions as difficult to find on his face as it had been in the mirror image in the teacup.  
  
“Like what?” she asks in honest puzzlement. A lot of things have changed compared to the short time she lived alongside Inaho on the Deucalion, and he could mean any and none of these aspects.  
  
The corners of his lips twitch into a smile, but the expression in his eye is almost sombre.  
  
“With the way things are now. It’s the only thing important to him, but I don't think it's my place to tell, not when I don't know the answer myself.”  
  
Asseylum feels herself tense up, the ache in her chest having nothing to do with the bullet wounds. The silence that hangs between them makes the unseen presence of the third person that had entered the room alongside Inaho like a second shadow even more apparent.  
  
“How is he?”  
  
Inaho exhales a breath that is almost a laugh.  
  
“Healthy, but not exactly talkative. But that might just be because of me, I suppose. He doesn’t like me very much,” he comments, absentmindedly tracing the floral pattern on the cup with his thumb. “He doesn’t like himself very much, either, for that matter.”  
  
It is an answer that is almost akin to a status report, a mission that is still on-going and far from completion. Inaho had not only agreed to shoulder the responsibility she had left him with, he was still willing to go through with it even now. She cannot even imagine what it must feel like to repeatedly face the person that had taken half of his vision, and nearly all of his life along with it, all because of her wish.  
  
“I shouldn’t have asked this of you, Inaho-san. Please forgive me for my selfish demands.”  
  
She only realises her hand has moved when her fingers brush against the delicate silver necklace Klancain has given her as an engagement gift. It does not harbour the power of Aldnoah, nor is it a Terran protection charm. Asseylum folds her hands in her lap and realises Inaho is looking right at her again.  
  
“No, it’s alright. I don’t mind it. I’ve spilled enough blood over the past two years, and I suppose him and I are even now.”  
  
There is history she is unaware of, she realises. Almost two years lost to sleep as the world and everyone within it has changed. She has learned about what has happened on the Versian side from Edelrittuo and Lemrina, but she could only fathom what it has been like for her friends on Earth.  
  
As Inaho gives her another of the smiles she knows are rare, it is too easy to believe him. While from the looks of it, Inaho has chosen to remain enlisted with the army, there are no more table-turning battles left for him to fight now, and perhaps he has decided to continue this long-lasting duel with Slaine out of boredom. She has trouble imagining what someone like Inaho would do with peace.  
  
Given he grew up in a world under a constant threat of war, he probably does not know it himself.  
  
“I’m happy,” she slowly answers his earlier question, a reply to the both of them. “I wish for nothing more than for the war and animosity between our worlds to finally come to an end. It will be a long and difficult path ahead, but I believe that we can change, both ourselves and our fates. So as long as I’m able to contribute to that, I’m happy.”  
  
For a second, Inaho looks as if he wants to clarify something, but whatever it was, he drops it.  
  
“I’m glad to hear that. I’m sure that you will accomplish what you’ve set out to do.”  
  
Inaho finishes his cup, and it is a sign that their short reunion is about to end. There is so much left unsaid, and Asseylum wonders if they will ever be able to talk about it. It is not only time that has passed them by.  
  
“The tea was nice,” Inaho says as they get up and he readjusts his uniform coat with an air of routine, “thank you.”  
  
“I’ve found that tea on Earth is so much more diverse in flavour from place to place, even if we use the same blend, but this one has to be one of my favourites.”  
  
She hears some of her usual enthusiasm for the wonders of Earth has bubbled up in her voice again, a habit she usually tries to restrain among the UFE officials, but with Inaho, it comes naturally. Something about Inaho’s entire posture softens up in response.  
  
“It’s due to the composition of the minerals in the water which varies from region to region, different from the synthetically produced water on Vers,” he explains, and for a moment they are back on the sunny, windswept deck of a ship in the middle of December, the taste of the ocean on her tongue and the endless blue sky above her. “The water of this region is very low on limescale, which is why it’s especially soft.”  
  
Asseylum does what she has been longing to do ever since running into Inaho earlier, then. Walking around the table as quickly as her dress allows it, she reaches out to clasp Inaho’s hands in hers. He allows it with the same friendly patience as before. His hands are a bit dry and rough from dealing with machinery, no doubt - but they are also warm, a testament to the fact that he is still alive.  
  
“I sincerely pray for your happiness, Inaho-san,” she says, genuinely. “I hope we meet again.”  
  
She cannot say _I hope to see you soon_ because they both know it is impossible.  
  
“Thank you, Seylum-san. Farewell.”  
  
Inaho withdraws his hands gently after that, expression as hard to decipher as always.  
  
As she watches him leave, she wonders if what the unconscious part of him told her still holds true now, and if this is what it feels like to see a part of oneself leave along with someone else.  
  
He is already almost past the guards waiting to escort him off the premises when he halts again, turning his head back to her slightly. She notes with a pang of grief it is his blind side.  
  
“You should go see him before you leave for Vers,” he says, an edge to his voice that is unfamiliar. He does not wait for a reply.

  
  
懐かしくもあるけれど  
想い馳せる暇もなく  
  
_There are things that I miss, but_  
_I don’t even have any time before the thoughts run away_


	2. Lady Grey

Each of her steps echoes in the plain hallway, and yet her own heartbeat is loud enough in her ears to drown out the sounds. It is not fear that makes her interlace her fingers with enough strength that her nails dig into the skin, leaving fading red half-moon dents. She had to convince a lot of people that she was not afraid, actually, a fact that apparently they had found hard to believe.  
  
When she requested the meeting, the initial response was a straightforward refusal. The document that ensured Slaine’s life does not specify any visitor rights for the Versian side, and the UFE council told her the risk was too high to take. She pressed for a conversation with the Admiral himself, then, explaining that she was the last person Slaine wished to harm.  
  
They still stalled it long enough to make it almost impossible, claiming it would take time to create the required environment. The contract states that Vers would not learn of Slaine’s exact location, a condition to prevent potential left-over followers from attempting to free him by force, and given he was dead to the public and even most of the military on Earth, moving him required great precaution.  
  
Asseylum tries not to show how much all this talk about her childhood friend being more or less an object, a collateral to ensure her cooperation and Earth’s safety, upsets her. She knows that the UFE leaders would think of it as hypocrisy, given it had been her who had delivered him to this fate.  
  
  
She takes a deep breath as they approach the door with two armed guards at the end of the hallway. They salute the officer escorting her, and he turns towards her with a frown.  
  
“One last time - please be careful. If this went according to my advice, he’d still be handcuffed to the table and you’d have a guard inside, but alas, do as you please at your own discretion. If anything should happen, we’ll intervene immediately.”  
  
She only half-listens and nods, ignoring his clear disapproval, and he sighs and orders the guards to open the door.  
  
They tense up, weapons raised as Slaine instantly gets to his feet, probably expecting him to make a dash at her. He only bows low enough that the tips of his hair brush against the table.  
  
“Your Majesty.”  
  
It is the greeting of a low-ranking servant, not that of a Knight of Vers.  
  
Asseylum gently pushes down the arm of the man to her right, straightens her back and steps over the threshold.  
  
“Please raise your head, Slaine.”  
  
He does so, but barely. Despite the fact he is taller than her, she cannot see his eyes beneath the fringe. His hair is longer now, she notes, reaching down to his shoulders that are drawn up in obvious tension. The lose cut of his shirt does not conceal the fact that he seems to have lost weight since their last encounter, and the bright azure colour only stands as a reminder that the day they had dreamed of as children, the day they would both go to Earth together and Slaine would show her the miracles of his homeland, would never become reality.  
  
She walks over to her chair with deliberate slowness, and she can hear the officer mumbling what is doubtlessly words of anger at her carelessness as the door closes behind her, shutting off Slaine and her from the outside world.  
  
The room is hardly more than nine square metres in size, she estimates, an old soundproof interrogation room without windows but with cameras. The guards will monitor this meeting to ensure her safety, as they had said, but she had managed to insist that there would be no audio recording. If the UFE could be trusted on their word was another matter entirely, but she wanted to offer Slaine as much privacy as possible.  
  
“Please, sit,” she says, and Slaine complies instantly. She has the sudden wish he refused her order once more, to show they have broken out of the structure they had been caught up ever since they were children, to have him treat her as an equal. She knows it is probably impossible a thing to ask.  
  
“How are you?”  
  
“I’m well, thank you for your concern, Your Majesty.”  
  
Hearing that title from his lips hurts her more than all of the slander she had been exposed to from both Terran and renegade Versian protesters these past few months.  
  
“It’s still Asseylum to you, Slaine. Please, look at me.”  
  
He shakes his head, but lifts his chin at last. It is as if she was looking at an old, forgotten photograph, simultaneously familiar and at odds with her last memory of the person and what she knows him to have become. Self-conscious nervousness and stoic cold-heartedness have vanished and made room for a gentle expression of calm acceptance. And even though he is smiling and looking right at her, somehow she feels he is not wholly present.  
  
“You shouldn’t have come here,” he says, voice soft. “I asked that you forget about me.”  
  
Her shock must have shown clearly on her face, because his smile grows more lopsided, his tone turning into one of a strange bitterness that is so different from anything she had seen in him in the past.  
  
“Aah, he hasn’t told you, has he. Orange is so very cruel in his kindness.”  
  
“I could never forget about you,” Asseylum states vehemently, feeling an uncharacteristic flare of anger. It is entirely directed at her own helplessness. The only thing Slaine has left is wishes she cannot fulfil, and seeing the way he keeps smiling at her in response as if he had expected her refusal makes her realise just how little she can do for him, how little she had ever been able to do for him.  
  
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I caused you to suffer, Slaine, and I’m sorry I couldn’t save you. If I could turn back time, I would, but as things are, please accept that you’ll remain my dear friend who I’ll never forget, not even for a second.”  
  
Slaine averts his gaze, reaching out to pick up the thermos and the two plastic cups that she had barely registered at the side of the table. Hardly what she is used to, but chosen for security reasons. Slaine pours her a cup of dark, steaming liquid, and she accepts it with a nod of thanks.  
  
“I’ve never blamed you,” he then says, moving on to his own “and I never will. It’s me who has failed you, and I don’t deserve your forgiveness or loving memory. You saved my life, and I repaid you by nearly destroying yours. You shouldn’t burden yourself with my existence.”  
  
“I’m not.” Asseylum carefully takes a sip. The tea is over-steeped and slightly bitter. “I wouldn’t be where I am without you, Slaine. The lessons you've taught me will never fade from my memory, and I’m grateful you were my friend back when I had none.”  
  
He makes a strangled little sound in response, pressing one hand to his chest, and for a second she fears he might be in pain, her first instinct to call for medical assistance, before she recognises the glint of the silver chain peeking from beneath his collar. She remembers being gifted with it, twice, and losing it just the same. There are things that slip between your fingers no matter how hard you try to hold on to them.  
  
“I hope that you have someone more reliable at your side now, someone who won’t betray you.” He looks her in the eyes again, his own unnaturally glistening. She does not know what she would do should he begin to cry; she fears her own carefully maintained composure would instantly topple over like a house of cards. “We’ve only met briefly, but Klancain seems to be an honest person.”  
  
“He is.” This time, it is Asseylum who lowers her head. She shifts her grip on the plastic slightly until the fingers of her right hand fully cover those of her left. There is no way Slaine has not seen the ring, and yet, she is now suddenly acutely aware of it. It had not been her who had been engaged to Slaine, but when she had talked about it with Lemrina once, she only gave her a look of amused belittlement that Asseylum has learned to read as a veil hiding pain and sadness. _“I wonder about that,”_ was all Lemrina said.  
  
“I wish happiness to the both of you,” Slaine interrupts her thoughts, and in his voice there is nothing but genuine kindness.  
  
She does not know what to reply to that, and for a while, they sit in silence. Each passing second is bringing her departure closer, and it would not only be one from him but from Earth and all of her beauty. It would be years before she could return, and even though Vers is her home, in this moment, she thinks she could not be further from happiness.  
  
“I want to beg a favour of you.”  
  
Slaine startles her when his fingers brush against hers. She had not even realised she was trembling.  
  
“I know I’m not in the position to do so, and you might think me impertinent to even dare bring it up to you after all I’ve done,” he continues, and even as he is now, even in this environment, for a moment Asseylum sees him as for what he had been last. A bright, decisive commander whose apparent self-depreciation was as much founded on strategic manipulation as on belief, and she thinks that if not for their shared history, this would only be a meeting between two opposing faction leaders. Somehow, it is so easy to forget that they used to be enemies.  
  
“No, go ahead,” she prompts, and she notices her voice has shifted in register as well. They are no longer children, and this is no longer about them. They both shouldered the weight of leadership and elected to be responsible for those following them. Both of their hands are stained with Terran and Versian blood alike. It is as equal as they can get, now, in their positions as victor and prisoner.  
  
“Don’t -,” he pauses for a breath, then declares with conviction: “Don’t forget about the people of Vers. Those that have suffered under its system for years and who have no place amongst its order but the bottom. If anything, don’t let my bloodshed be in vain for them.”  
  
People like them meant people like him, Asseylum knows, and she takes his hand into hers. He flinches for a second as if he wants to pull back, but then returns the gesture.  
  
“I won’t,” she promises. “There are many things that will have to change, and I intend to make amends for the mistakes of my predecessors. There is no new human race, and there is no difference between those of rank and anyone else. These people haven’t forgotten the voice you gave them, Slaine. I still have a lot to learn, and I can only hope they have the patience to let me try to help them.”  
  
After the immense losses on both sides, it seems everyone has grown war-weary, but she also knows that Heaven’s Fall was followed by violent uprisings on Earth against each other. The thought that employing Kataphrakts to subdue human beings was necessary is a frightening one, and she takes it as a motivation to do anything in her power to change Vers for the better without further violence as much as possible.  
  
“You make a great Empress.”  
  
Asseylum looks down at their hands and cannot help but think of what could have been if things had gone differently. Slaine had achieved the impossible with little more than a name to himself, had proven himself to be intelligent and empathetic, and his presence as her advisor and confidant would have given her a reassurance that she could truly achieve anything she had set out to.  
  
“I try,” she laughs because she cannot cry. It is futile to cry for things long lost, her grandfather used to tell her whenever she enquired about her parents, and it is an advice that had enabled her to keep going despite all that happened.  
  
“Also, one more request - if you could make sure my father’s grave is maintained, I would be beyond grateful. I can never return to it, after all.”  
  
“You’re not angry at him?” Asseylum asks, searching for a hint of former bitterness on Slaine’s face, but all she can find is mild underlying sadness. It was his father’s decision to defect to Vers and drag his young son with him, and all of Slaine’s suffering began the day he had boarded the shuttle. He could have had a normal childhood on Earth, just like Inaho and his friends, but it had been taken from him.  
  
“No. If not for him, I’d never have met you, Princess Asseylum.”  
  
The cameras are the furthest thing from her mind as she now reaches out to touch Slaine’s face, brushing back the strands of hair and resting her palm against his cheek. Her memories of waking up from a near two-year slumber are still blurry as if seen through a fogged up pane of glass, but she remembers touching him and feeling as if she had come home, somehow.  
  
He leans into the touch, his own hand now covering hers, and all she can think of is how cruel it is for such a warm and kind person to have suffered all this time.  
  
“I promise,” she repeats.  
  
  
By the time she leaves, the long-forgotten tea has turned cold and blackish in the cups. The guards let her pass without words, and Asseylum is grateful for it. She retraces her steps through the building, not quite paying attention to her surroundings and the officer’s debriefing, and she cannot wait to leave this place as fast as possible. Somehow, she thinks that if she would linger, something within her would break apart beyond fixing.  
  
The sky outside is cloudy and grey; the air feels humid and heavy on her skin, a promise of rainfall soon to come. Her excitement at seeing a thunderstorm up close for the first time last week had clearly amused Klancain a lot, but his reaction was not unkind. Her wonder for Earth would probably never cease, but in this moment, she merely feels as if the planet’s gravity is pulling her down more harshly than ever before.  
  
“I hope the weather near the launch site is better, taking off under these conditions is really unpleasant,” she hears a familiar voice, and as she turns she sees Klancain waiting for her among her security detail and the Terran military officers that run this compound.  
  
He walks over to her now, giving a short bow before offering his arm. She takes it and lets him lead her towards the heavily armoured car.  
  
“I didn’t expect you here, I thought you were busy with departure preparations.”  
  
“We finished earlier than expected, and I could leave the rest up to my second in command with clear conscience,” Klancain explains lightly. If he has noticed her trembling, he gives no indication of it. “So, I thought I could use my free time to pick you up.”  
  
“That’s good news,” Asseylum hears herself reply, her voice level and unaffected. “Let’s return back home, then.”  
  
There is a short pause, and she does not look at him. Home, that meant your place of origin and your family, but also the people close to your heart. It was dangerous to grow attachments within another world in her position, her feelings for some disturbing the balance of her feelings for her people.  
  
He squeezes her arm slightly, then, just as the first, heavy drops of rain begin to fall, leaving black dots on the concrete.  
  
“Yes, let’s go home.”  


  
時計の針はもう二度と戻らない  
振り返ったって引き返せない  
  
_The watches’ needle will never again go back_  
_Even if I turn around I can’t return_


	3. Prince of Wales

  
Even if her stay on Earth had not been long compared her time on Vers, Asseylum comes to realise how much she misses natural sunlight before they have even made a fifth of their way. The semblance of a day's run is maintained by the shuttle’s lighting, but it is nothing at all like the sunrises and sunsets she has gotten used to so quickly.  
  
A glance at the clock tells her that it is late afternoon by Vers standard time, but the parlour window only offers a view of endless night and faint far-off stars. She has been sitting in this spot for a good hour now, letting her thoughts wander aimlessly.  
  
She remembers how fast time flew by when she had first travelled along this route. She was so eager to finally set foot on Earth, to see in person all the things Slaine had told her about that she was in a state of constant excitement bordering on euphoria, hardly minding the months of darkness and boredom.  
  
Things are different this time, even if the overall situation might feel familiar at first. The only sensation that remains the same is the uncertainty about what will await her once she reaches her destination and how she will proceed from there.  
  
But Slaine will never be teaching her again. Eddelrittuo is no longer at her side to tell her to reign in her enthusiasm. And it is a different Count Cruhteo that enters the room now, balancing a tray on his left hand as he indicates a Versian bow with his right. She has told him multiple times it was not necessary when they were alone, but he insisted, saying that they were not equal of rank just yet.  
  
“I thought you might care for some tea,” he explains as he walks up to her and carefully puts the tray down on the table. “You looked somewhat under the weather during the conference earlier.”  
  
Asseylum mentally scolds herself for giving in to pointlessly lamenting the past and worrying about the future, and smiles.  
  
“Thank you very much, that’s very kind of you. I apologise for my sorry state, I’m sure I’ll feel better after some rest. Grandfather’s passing still hasn’t quite registered with me, I fear.”    
  
“That’s understandable, such things need time,” Klancain says gently as he sits down next to her on the couch. He has lost his father not too long ago, she remembers, and unexpectedly and violently at that. Rayregalia’s death was an expected one, inevitable and only a matter of time, and yet she had foolishly hoped that she would make it back to Vers for a final farewell that was more than just a holographic transmission.  
  
Until the end, he had alternated between recognising her and drifting off to a different time and place, and during their last meeting, he once again had mistaken Klancain for Glizeria, addressing him with a speech about paying close attention to Earth gearing up for war. They had both learned by then that it was wisest to play along, and Klancain had accepted his role and dutifully agreed to everything her father had said, parting with the blessing to lead the Versian troops to certain victory.  
  
If Asseylum thinks back on it, she had said her last proper farewell to her grandfather before she began her travel to Earth over two years ago. He did not take the news of her apparent death very well, and decayed increasingly fast ever after, an unlikely victim of a battle fought millions of kilometres away.  
  
His secretary Sir Yuran continues handling all administrative affairs as of the moment, but daily conferences are a necessity in order to ensure a smooth transition towards her idea of what Vers’ future should be like. The burial will take place without her now, and the formal coronation will have to be pushed back. However, as of the hour of Rayregalia’s passing, she has turned from Regent to Empress proper.  
  
Asseylum is once again pulled back into the present as Klancain hands her a delicate china cup. Somehow, now that she has seen the near-rudimentary machinery and vessels on Earth, such dainty items strike Asseylum as misplaced on an interplanetary shuttle.  
  
Taking it, she realises he had already added milk and sugar in the exact amount she favours. He was a scarily observant person at times. They both drink in silence, then Klancain lowers and eyes his cup with a quizzical frown.  
  
“It’s different from what I remember it tasting on Earth. I wonder whether I stored it under the wrong conditions?”  
  
“It’s due to the water,” Asseylum answers automatically, feeling her lips pull into an affectionate smile. “On this shuttle as well as on Landing Castles and Vers we use synthetically produced water which lacks any traces of minerals typical of Earth. Inaho-san told me about that, once.”  
  
“Aaah.”  
  
Klancain puts away his cup and leans forward with his arms propped on his legs. The shift in posture has Asseylum strangely alert, and she reaches out to lay a hand on his shoulder. The gold tread on the epaulette is rough under her fingertips.  
  
“Is everything alright?”  
  
“I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something, but I kept pushing it further away each time,” he replies, and she can already tell it would be a serious matter from the way he pointedly does not look at her.  
  
He has never hesitated to speak his mind on political matters, something she has encouraged him to do, and neither has he held back when it came to more practical issues. For example, he downright forbade her to refer to him by his inherited title unless the circumstances absolutely required it. Him being so uncharacteristically roundabout worries her as to what could possibly be on his mind.  
  
“Tell me,” she prompts.  
  
Klancain takes a deep breath.  
  
“You don’t have to maintain this.”  
  
“Maintain what?”  
  
“This engagement.”  
  
Asseylum’s feels her hand grow slack and slide off his shoulder, and Klancain faces her once more. He looked unusually earnest, no trace of his typical friendly expression that is so absolutely different form his father's.  
  
“You had to make this decision on the spot and under great duress,” he continues as she just sits in silence, staring at him, “which isn’t how you should have to chose the person remaining at your side for a lifetime. Things have changed, now. You’re the Empress and the person who ended this and protected Vers’ independence, and both the Orbital Knights and the aristocrats on Vers have sworn you their loyalty once more. You don’t need my clan’s name to give your decisions weight.”  
  
“You’re regretting agreeing to this.” Her voice sounds hollow to herself as she forces herself to smile.  
  
She cannot hold it against him. Not only has her body been scarred by the war, but so has her reputation. Even if Saazbaum’s and Slaine’s plans have been revealed in part to the general public and theoretically people are now aware that the bride at Slaine’s side had been Lemrina Vers Envers, there is still some talk. Those who remembered have been retelling the story of how she had saved the life of this Terran boy in the past and how they had been close for so long, which makes his treachery all the worse. There willd always remain a shadow of doubt on her worth, and maybe Klancain had grown to realise that he does not have to share it.  
  
“Of course, I don’t want to force you into a marriage you’ll regret-”  
  
“No, that’s not it,” he interrupts her. “I’m not worried about me, and even if we end this relationship, I’d be honoured to remain your advisor in the future. My concern lies with you.”  
  
“I don’t understand.”  
  
He smiles, but there is a clear hint of exasperation to the expression.  
  
“You’re the Empress now. You have the freedom to abandon an ill-planned political marriage because of your own personal feelings.”  
  
“My personal feelings,” she repeats lamely.  
  
She remembers how her grandfather told her about her duty again and again. First and foremost she had to ensure the bloodline of Aldnoah would not discontinue, and second she had to maintain the stability of the Versian society. Marrying one of the heirs to the most powerful vassals would be ideal, of course, but unlike with monarchy in the past, no engagements were settled on right after she was born. She used to think of it as a sign that she would be given the privilege of her own decision, and only later she realised that it had been precaution more than anything. Her hand in marriage was a leverage that should not be given to a Knight’s clan too hastily, lest they become cocky and attempt to seize more power.  
  
The court was filled with envy and mistrust at all times, children eager to replace their parents and Barons eager to replace Counts, and Rayregalia advised her never to dedicate too much of her affection to one single person. According to him, the ideal monarch displayed all-encompassing love to all of their subjects and kept their favourites secret, a ploy to pacify those at the bottom and limit the backstabbing at the top.  
  
“I remember when we first met,” she begins, and Klancain blinks at her in surprise. He clearly expected a different reaction, then. “Back when your father was officially granted his title as a Count, inheriting it from your late grandfather.”  
  
“Aah, it feels like a lifetime ago. I wasn’t sure you’d even recall me.”  
  
“We were introduced only briefly, but I remembered since we were close in age and that was such a rare thing for me at court. At that time, I had already been informed that one day I would have to pick my husband from among the Knights. So when I asked you to help me this way during the battle, it wasn’t a decision made on no grounds. It’s what I’ve been raised to face, eventually.”  
  
“So what you feel doesn’t matter to you at all?” He sounds vaguely disbelieving and hurt, and Asseylum remembers how her sister looked at her with a mixture of pity and sympathy when she mentioned this point of view to her. Asseylum would have picked neither of them for a romanticist, but their lack of understanding for her pragmatism leaves her unsure of what to think.  
  
“Do you think I dislike you?” she asks in honest confusion. Rather, Klancain is the opposite of unlikeable to her, a courteous and reliable person, open-minded and gentle. Automatically her mind begins to frantically search through her memories, looking for some moment where she might have offended him without intending to.  
  
“Probably not,” he says softly, a smile resurfacing before vanishing just as quickly. “But there are people you love more than me, and I don’t want to see you despair over that in the future, Asseylum.”  
  
Suddenly, she realises what has brought all of this on, and she suppresses a laugh. The unusual and familiar way of addressing her make clear Klancain thinks this is a personal matter that has nothing to do with rank, and she does not wish to hurt him any more than she inadvertently already might have.  
  
“It’s not like that,” she explains, the familiar feeling of nostalgia welling up inside of her. “Slaine and Inaho-san are precious friends to me, and if my actions towards them have upset you in any way, I apologise.”  
  
Klancain remains earnest, and she cannot quite understand the emotions behind his eyes. It is not quite doubt, and not quite insecurity.  
  
“They would die for you,” he says, his tone neither dismissive nor disdainful, merely matter-of-fact as if he was stating an obvious truth. “Both of them would.”  
  
Asseylum opens her mouth to reply, and she wants to tell him that Inaho has others to live for, his family and his friends, and Slaine had eventually chosen to follow through with a higher goal in mind, and that their relationships were far from blind love and loyalty, but Klancain already continues.  
  
“It’s because they love you, and so do I.”  
  
For a few moments, all she can do is stare at him, her mind entirely blank. The hot sting of tears welling up in her eyes shakes her from her stupor, but it is already too late to stop.  
  
“They didn’t say- I, I didn’t- don’t-”

She is pulled into an embrace, then, grateful to be able to hide from further scrutiny and prevent herself from spilling more incoherent words by pressing her face into the thick fabric of Klancain’s uniform. His fingertips trace gentle patterns on her back, and he does not speak for a long time, just lets her gather herself and holds her close.

“I can’t tell,” she finally says quietly, only turning her head sideways enough for her words to become audible, “I can’t tell what I feel. If the willingness to die for someone else is love, then I’ve been raised to die for peace and Vers, not for a single person. The days I spent with them, I can’t tell what I was thinking in these moments.”

“It’s alright.” With her hands still resting on Klancain’s chest, she feels the words as much as she hears them. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-”

“No, you were in your right to ask.”

Asseylum carefully moves back until she’s able to look at him again. He got to see her at her least dignified, but at this point, they are both far beyond vanity.

“The connections I have with them are as strong today as they were back then, even if it’s just in my memory. I was ignorant of how this might affect you, and I fully understand if you wish to break off the engagement for that reason-”

“I don’t mind. Whatever memories and connections you hold dear are yours to keep, and it doesn’t make me wish to be at your side any less.”

“Will you, then? Remain at my side, even if I can’t promise I’ll ever be able to return a single person’s feelings?”

“I will, if you want me to,” Klancain says, and his hands come up to frame her face, thumbs carefully brushing away the traces of tears, shed for who, she cannot say.

She feels exhausted, more so than even when she had just woken up from two years of sleep, now that finally the pain of all the goodbyes has caught up with her. There are paths she will never be able to backtrack, and sentiments she will not get a second chance to understand. She wonders if Inaho and Slaine have realised this, or if they are equally at a loss as to what connects them.

Maybe one day she will know.

If the war had not happened, or if it had taken a different turn, who is to say what would have happened to all of them in the end? It is futile to lament the past and the futures that have not come to pass, she reminds herself.

Asseylum lets herself fall forward again, resting her head on Klancain’s shoulder and closing her eyes.

“Stay, then.”

 

  
遠い日々を呼ぶ声に  
朝は満ちて 消えてゆく  
  
_Calling out with my voice to the far away days_  
_The morning rises and disappears_

**Author's Note:**

> The title and lyrics are taken from the [Tsukiuta series’s song](https://soundcloud.com/kuramocchi/tsukiuta) of the same name. Credits for the translation go to [this person](http://otomelody.blogspot.de/2013/09/tsukiuta-9-yoru-no-hikari-kondou.html).
> 
> The sub-headers are all tea blends I actually own and recommend if you have a thing for tea. 
> 
> \- Bai Mu Dan is Chinese White Peony tea. Peony in Japanese flower language stands for ‘bravery’. 
> 
> \- Lady Grey is a milder blend of the more widely known Earl Grey tea. While the name is merely meant to match the original namesake of Earl Charles Grey, it happens to also correspond to Lady Jane Grey who aspired to become the English Queen following Edward VI. She is also known as the Nine Day Queen as her claim to the throne was quickly refuted, leading to her execution on Mary I’s orders. Lady Jane Grey is still supposed to haunt the Tower of London.
> 
> \- Prince of Wales is a black tea blend and also the title bestowed upon the British crown prince.


End file.
